


Beneath the Sheets of Paper

by misslucyjane



Series: My Sweetest Downfall [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-16
Updated: 2009-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyjane/pseuds/misslucyjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel never asks for anything for himself. Dean finds this frustrating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Sheets of Paper

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after 5.04, "The End." Title is from "Samson" by Regina Spektor. This story started as a late response to the "first date" prompt for the deancastiel quickfire challenge, but then it took on a life of its own. Thank you to skidmo for beta.

It started one night soon after Sam and Dean reunited, when Castiel tried to transport himself away and couldn't. He willed himself to a library he knew of in San Francisco to do some research, but instead of book-lined walls and gleaming wood, he was still looking at the ugly orange and green wallpaper of the motel room.

"Cas?" Dean said. "Did you need something else?"

"I can't leave," Castiel said.

"What?" Dean left his boots untied but on his feet as he rose from the bed and came to Castiel, and Sam stood as well, his expression one of concern. "What do you mean, you can't leave?"

"I want to be in California but I am still here." He looked from Dean to Sam and back, his chest starting to rise and fall with distress. "This has never happened before. I've been alive for millennia and this has never happened."

"Cas," Dean said and put his hands on Castiel's shoulders. Castiel gazed at him and his breathing slowed. "Dude. You've been on the go for three days. We're all exhausted. Maybe you just need to rest for a while and then you can flit off to wherever."

Castiel exhaled and said, "You are likely right, Dean. I will find lodging of some kind."

"You're staying with us," Dean said and took his hands from Castiel's shoulders. "Sam? Is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Sam said. "I don't know where we're going to put him, though. I guess we could get a cot from management."

"Um," Dean said. He ducked his head and glanced at Castiel, scratching the back of his head. Castiel knew this meant he was both embarrassed and proud.

His eyes widened—oh, this was about _him_.

"What, Dean?" Sam said.

"I figured Cas would, um." He glanced at Castiel again. Castiel gazed back, unsure if he should speak or let Dean handle it. "Bunk with me."

Sam's eyes widened too. "Oh," he said, "you're, um, used to sleeping together."

"Yes," said Castiel. "And we have sex, as well."

Dean laughed so hard he bent over. Sam looked away and muttered, "Yeah, I figured." Castiel wondered why the truth was so amusing.

***

Castiel knew a few things about little human rituals. The first time he slept with Dean, really slept, not just had intercourse, Dean thought it was terribly important that Castiel wash his face and brush his teeth and take off the rest of his clothes before he lay on the bed; and then in the morning there was more washing and brushing and clothes before Dean took him out for pancakes and sausage. Even the way Dean made his coffee, the number of times he stirred it after he poured in the cream, felt like a ritual to reassure himself that all was well in the world.

Castiel did not sleep the same way Dean did. Instead he drifted in a pleasant sort of haze, Dean solid in his arms, the rhythm of his breathing like the rhythm of the sea. If Dean mumbled or cried out in the night Castiel stroked his hair to soothe him. If he slept peacefully Castiel watched him and wondered about his dreams. If Dean woke, there was often kisses and talk and the lazy type of sex that Dean said was his favorite kind.

"That's not true," Castiel said once in reply. "You like all kinds."

Dean laughed. "Okay, you've got me there."

Dean liked lazy sex and fast sex and morning sex and bedtime sex, sex in the Impala, sex on a motel bed, sex shivering and half-dressed in a field of mown hay where the night was so dark they could see the swoop of the Milky Way. They held hands that night and Castiel told Dean the true names of the stars, and Dean looked at him as if Castiel were the best gift he'd been given.

Castiel just liked sex with Dean. It didn't matter where they were or what they did. He liked kisses that grew increasingly hungry, the first rush of desire, the way Dean's hands shook when he unbuttoned Castiel's clothes, the way Dean's name escaped his lips when Dean kissed his belly or sucked on his neck. He liked the way their skin slipped against each other's, the way perspiration trickled down his face and when Dean kissed it away. He liked being filled with Dean, the way Dean's body felt so alive and strong between his hands. He liked being surrounded by Dean, the heat and tightness of his body. He liked the way Dean moaned, "Cas," and his eyes grew wide when he reached his climax. He liked the time afterward, when Dean dozed against his shoulder, Dean's skin damp and warm.

He glanced at Dean as they went through the bedtime ritual, slowly brushing his teeth as Dean washed his face and dried it with a motel towel that scratched against his stubble. "What?" Dean said. "You don't like the toothpaste?"

Castiel spat out the foam. "The toothpaste is fine. Dean. I am not sure how the evening will go with Sam present."

"We'll just have to be quiet." Dean grinned at him.

"I think we should just sleep," Castiel informed him and rinsed his mouth with a cupped palm of water.

"Yeah. You're probably right." Dean sighed. "Damn, I thought this was going to be fun."

Castiel took hold of Dean's face and kissed him, and felt Dean smile against his lips. "I love you," Castiel said softly and they leaned their foreheads together.

"I know," Dean said, which satisfied Castiel. He let go of Dean and left the bathroom, and crawled into the empty bed. In the other bed Sam was a big long shape under the coverlet, his back like a wall. He was not sleeping, Castiel knew.

"Good night, Sam," Castiel said.

"Good night, Cas."

Castiel nodded and folded his hands over his chest. Dean had lent him a t-shirt and boxer shorts to sleep in, saying, "We need to get you your own clothes, man," as he held the shirt up to Castiel's chest to measure it.

"I have my own clothes," Castiel had answered, puzzled, and was even more puzzled at the amused look the brothers gave each other.

He ran his hands over the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and then looked up when Dean came out of the bathroom and got into bed beside him. When Dean was comfortable Castiel reached over and touched Dean's cheek with his knuckles, and Dean blinked at him sleepily. "I thought we were just going to sleep."

"Go to sleep, Dean," Castiel said, and Dean chuckled and pressed Castiel's hand to his mouth.

"Good night, Cas." He said more loudly, "Good night, Sammy," and Sam grunted a close approximation of "good night."

Castiel folded his hands on his chest again and stared at the ceiling. Beside him Dean breathed slow and deep, and Castiel thought he could feel Dean's heat even with the sheet and four inches between them. He wanted to pull Dean to him, feel him breathing, feel his heart beating, but he knew if he did he would start touching Dean more than he should.

He thought, _This is what longing feels like._ He sighed.

Dean chuckled and whispered, "You too, huh?" as he turned onto his side and wadded the pillow under his head.

"Me too what?"

"Can't sleep."

"I want to touch you," Castiel said. In the other bed Sam made a "Oh, for God's sake," kind of sound. Castiel repeated in a whisper, "I want to touch you."

Dean smirked, but his tone was gentle. "I know, babe. Me too." He moved closer so Castiel did the same, and Dean whispered, "If I could touch you right now, I'd do it slow, starting with the tips of your ears."

"Yes," Castiel whispered.

"So slow over and around your ears until you got goosebumps," Dean said, his voice pitched low. "And then down your neck, and I'd rub your neck until you were relaxed all over. And I'd comb my hands through your hair and rub your scalp until you were practically asleep in my hands."

"Why would you want to put me to sleep?" Castiel murmured, though the image it brought to mind pleased him.

"So we can do it slow." He waggled his eyebrows and Castiel felt heat flush his cheeks.

Sam threw a pillow at them. "Would you two shut up!"

"Sorry, Sam," Dean said contritely, and Castiel echoed, "I'm sorry, Sam," as he gave Sam the pillow back. Sam lay back with a "hrmph!" and pulled the blanket over his head.

Castiel lay down again, once more folding his hands on his chest. Dean did the same, stiff at his side. "This is going to be tough."

"Think peaceful thoughts," Castiel said and was happy that Dean chuckled.

Eventually he did sleep, and Sam did as well. Castiel did not, but he dozed serenely and did not dream.

***

Castiel slowly became aware that he was draped over Dean like another blanket. Dean was lightly snoring, his face mashed in his pillow. Castiel started to withdraw from him but Dean made a complaining noise, so Castiel adjusted his body a little so they could lie close more comfortably.

Castiel was also aware that he was hard against Dean's thigh, and he had no doubt if he reached between Dean's legs he would find him in the same state. He was constantly puzzled by the development—it seemed like a waste of energy, to want sex first thing—but Dean had persuaded him that a quick go in the morning made the entire day go better.

However, Sam was still asleep in the other bed.

"Cas," Dean whispered and Castiel answered, "Yes." He was not certain what Dean was asking, but Dean made it clear when he grabbed Castiel's hand and pressed it between his legs. Castiel kissed the back of his neck.

"But what about Sam?" he whispered.

"I'll be quiet. Please, Cas."

Castiel kissed the back of Dean's neck again and began to stroke him, loving the heat of his flesh and the way Dean's buttocks rubbed against his hips. Dean pushed his face deeper into the pillow to muffle his moans, and the mattress squeaked beneath them. Castiel licked Dean's ear and worried the uppermost ridge between his teeth gently, making Dean shiver and rock back against him with more intent. "Dean," Castiel breathed and tried not to groan too loudly.

Dean's fist twisted into the pillow and he shuddered once, once again, and gasped as his body bucked. He fell back against Castiel, breathing hard, and turned his head back to look at Castiel. Castiel kissed him as his hand slowed.

"Bathroom?" Dean whispered. Castiel nodded and they both slipped out from under the covers and went into the bathroom. Dean shut the door and turned the lock, then started the shower and the fan overhead. Castiel stood uncertainly, bemused by the bulge in his cotton shorts.  
Dean stripped off his shirt and boxer shorts quickly, so Castiel followed suit and dropped them onto the floor. "C'mon," Dean said and pulled him into the shower. The water stung his flesh, warm and needle-like, and Castiel leaned against the tile and closed his eyes as he breathed in the steam. He smiled and touched Dean's hair as Dean began to kiss his chest.

Dean slid down his body and kissed his hip, and Castiel spread his feet to brace himself. He gasped when he felt Dean's mouth on him and his fingers gripped Dean's hair. Dean wrapped a hand around Castiel's thigh and pressed the other to his stomach, and sucked him slowly, teasing him until Castiel grasped his shoulder and breathed, "Please," and Dean's mouth enveloped him completely. He looked up at Castiel and winked.

Castiel's fingers dug into Dean's shoulders as he gasped and shuddered. Orgasms always left Castiel feeling overwhelmed and shaken, and this time was no different: he gasped for breath and his legs felt weak, and another spasm passed through him as he watched Dean's mouth slide off him. He raked his hands through Dean's wet hair and Dean looked up at him with a self-satisfied smile. "Love it when you come, baby," Dean whispered and kissed his hip before he got to his feet. He picked up a bar of soap and washcloth, made some suds and began to scrub himself vigorously.

Castiel took up the bottle of shampoo and poured some into his hand—too much, from the way Dean snorted, so he rubbed his hand through Dean's hair before doing the same to his own. Dean glared at him and then kissed him and lathered the shampoo in Castiel's hair. Castiel kissed him back and did the same to Dean's hair, and then rubbed the soap into Dean's skin as it cascaded down his body.

"I am glad I stayed," Castiel said.

"So'm I. Even sleeping with you wasn't bad." He wiped shampoo from Castiel's face. "I'd rather fuck ya and then sleep with ya, but we can't have everything we want."

"No," Castiel said. "We cannot." He took the washcloth and began to clean himself. Dean was rather adamant about this, that regularly bathing and looking after any wounds was vital to his body's health. It was strange to think of this body as his, but he did so as he could no longer feel Jimmy beneath his own consciousness. He hoped Jimmy had moved on to the reward he had been promised, but of course there was no one to ask.

"Hey," Dean said softly, "you okay?"

"Of course." He bent his head under the spray to rinse the lather from his hair. "We should get to your next destination soon."

"Gonna run off on me already?"

Castiel looked at Dean. He knew at times what Dean said and what Dean meant were in opposition, but he could sincerely not tell here. "I'm not sure I could if I wanted to. I don't want to."

"Okay." Dean gave a short nod and then stood close to him to rinse off the soap and lather as well. "Then as soon as Sammy's up and ready we'll get some breakfast and then we're taking you shopping."

"I have a phone," Castiel said.

"Not for a phone. For clothes. You need some clothes of your own, Cas."

"The ones I have are fine." He turned off the water.

Dean sighed. "Cas … you're starting to smell a little ripe, dude."

"I smell bad?"

"No! No. Not bad. Just, it's obvious you've been wearing them for a long time. And you stand out. A guy in a suit with two guys in jeans, you stand out. We'll get you some clothes like ours and then we'll just be three guys in jeans. You know?"

Castiel didn't. "If you feel that's best."

"I do." He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Castiel, then got another for himself. He dried off vigorously while Castiel did so more slowly.

"Dean? We forgot to bring in clothes with us."

"Just wear the towel," Dean said and wrapped his around his waist. He scooped up the dirty clothes and rolled them under his arm. "Sammy won't mind."

Sam was still in bed, so Dean and Castiel dressed themselves in silence before the alarm on the bedside table went off. Sam groaned in protest and reached out one long arm to turn it off, and Dean said cheerfully, "Rise and shine, Sammy! We've got an angel to feed."

"I am not hungry," Castiel said, not wanting them to hurry on his account, but then Dean winked at him again and Sam sat up, yawning.

"I'm up, I'm up." He stretched and got out of bed. "You two showered already?"

"Yeah, we're just waiting on you." Dean threw himself on their bed and crossed his feet at the ankles. "Breakfast and then a couple errands before we hit the highway. Cas needs more clothes."

"Good," Sam said and then made an apologetic twitch and said, "I mean, you must be tired of wearing the same thing all the time, Castiel."

Castiel frowned and held the collar of his shirt to his nose. To him it still smelled like Jimmy. There must be some kind of subtlety he was missing.

***

At the diner where they got breakfast, Dean asked the waitress for a good place to buy jeans. She was charmed by him, of course, as they all were, and Castiel wondered if he smiled and teased like Dean if people would find him charming as well. As it was, he merely thanked her when she brought their food, and she patted his shoulder and said, "Aren't you sweet?"

He got that reaction a lot, as if he were a child. He wondered if people could tell that he was still new.

After the diner Dean drove to the department store the woman had recommended and Dean took them to men's clothes at once. Sam found a chair in front of the row of dressing rooms, and dropped himself into it, his size making the wood creak. Dean started leafing through shirts on their hangers and holding up the ones he liked to Castiel's chest. "What do you think, Cas?" he said now and again, and Castiel said, "Whatever you feel is best, Dean."

This made Dean roll his eyes and look annoyed, but Castiel was not bothered by that. Concerns such as color and cut did not interest him, though he supposed, given the choice, he would prefer everything be the green of Dean's eyes.

Finally Dean had gathered an armful of clothing, jeans and shirts and even underclothes, and pushed them into Castiel's arms. "Try these on."

"I can't pay for them," Castiel whispered, the obstacle only now occurring to him.

"I'll pay for them. Don't worry."

"You mean you'll use a fraudulent credit card."

"I'll pay in cash, if it bothers you. We made out like bandits the other night at pool."

"All right. Thank you, Dean," Castiel said and went into the dressing room, which was separated from the rest of the store by a thick woven curtain on rings. He took off Jimmy's raincoat and suit, and put on the jeans on the top of the pile and one of the t-shirts.

"So how's it going?" said Sam outside the dressing room.

Castiel was about to answer when Dean said, "I dunno, it's hard to tell what he likes," and Castiel heard him take the chair on the other side of his door.

"He's probably never thought about it before."

"Yeah, that's probably it."

Castiel looked at his reflection and straightened his shoulders, trying to decide if he liked how he looked. He did not feel anything about it—he neither liked nor disliked it, though he supposed the softness of the shirt was an enjoyable sensation, and Dean would like how the jeans fit his body. If it pleased Dean, it would please Castiel.

"Can I ask you something?" Sam said as Castiel pulled off that shirt and put on another.

"Sure," said Dean.

"How did all this start? I mean, you've never been into guys."

Dean paused a moment. "You don't know everything about me, Sammy."

"I think I would have noticed _that_."

Dean sighed and was quiet a while. Castiel changed clothes as silently as possible. Dean said, "I told you about when I took him to the brothel, right? Before we summoned Raphael?"

"Yeah, you did."

"I never told you about what happened after the brothel."

"Okay," said Sam slowly.

"We went back to the abandoned house I was staying at," said Dean, "and I told him I was sorry it hadn't worked out, and he said he'd rather stay a virgin than lose it through a financial transaction—you know how he talks—and, well, one thing led to another."

Castiel smiled to himself. One thing, he supposed, had been Dean's hand on his cheek, which led to his lips on Dean's palm and then his wrist, which led to Dean's mouth taking his—and on and on it had gone until they were nude on a musty mattress, sweaty and spent, a peace in Castiel's being like he had never experienced before. He had felt as big as a country, as small as a spark, warm all over, invincible. Utterly invincible.

He told Dean this, and Dean had laughed and held him and said he felt much the same. Listening to Dean's heartbeat, Castiel had thought he had loved his Father all of his existence, and tried to love His human children even when they were foolish and violent; but loving an individual, for their beauty and quirks and flaws and imperfections, must feel like this. The desire for closeness and comfort, the need to see them safe, the warmth and joy in their presence . . . Yes. It must be this.

Dean had slept at his side that night, and they had not spoken of what went on between them until days later. At the side of a wet and cold road, Dean said, "Don't ever change," and Castiel promised he wouldn't, and they found a warm place to relax and talk and make love, and Castiel was deep inside as he babbled, "I love you, I love you, I love you," and Dean answered him, "Castiel, Castiel, Castiel."

Castiel hastily changed into a new shirt, gave it a disinterested glance and put on another. The sooner they were finished here the sooner they could travel to their next destination and find another motel and another bed. He would very much like to find another bed.

"Do you love him?" Sam said outside the dressing room, his voice soft and without judgment, and Castiel paused, wanting to hear the answer too.

Dean took a long time to answer. "I don't know," he said, and Castiel leaned against the mirror, surprised by the depth of his disappointment. "I like him. I … need him. I want him. I don't know. I'm just enjoying what I get, you know? I mean … he's kind of … beautiful. You know?"

"I hadn't thought about it," Sam said. "But I don't know, dude, that does kind of sound like love."

"Shut up," said Dean. Sam chuckled, and a moment later, after what sounded like a small scuffle, Dean called into the dressing room, "Cas, are you decent?"

"Yes," Castiel said.

Dean pushed back the curtain, the metal rings screeching on the rod, and said, "Oh, Cas," and looked away as Castiel pulled on another pair of jeans.

"What?" Castiel said, pausing, and Dean shoved the curtain closed again behind him.

"When I say 'Are you decent?' that means, 'Are you wearing clothes?'"

"Oh," Castiel said. "I thought you meant in general."

"I know you are in general," Dean said, smiling and crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you think of the clothes?"

"They're nice."

Dean sighed with great exaggeration. "I mean, do you like any of them?"

"Yes. They're comfortable and well-made."

"But do you _like_ any of them?" Dean said.

"I like … all of them equally. It doesn't matter to me, Dean. Chose the ones you like and then you can wear them when I'm not here."

Dean made another annoyed sound, then picked out three t-shirts and three flannel shirts from pile of discarded clothing. "What about the jeans? Jeans that fit you won't fit me, you're too thin."

"These are good." He tilted his head at his reflection, and pulled at the waistband with his thumb. "Am I too thin?"

"Too thin for us to share jeans comfortably." He picked up a flannel shirt and held it over Castiel's shoulders. "The next job will be in Colorado. It's going to be cold. We'll need to get you a coat, too, but not here. And boots. You need boots."

"All right." He put his arms into the sleeves. The flannel was scratchy but warm. Dean put his hands on Castiel's waist and leaned his head against Castiel's neck.

"You smell like you again," he said softly.

"What do I smell like?" It changed every time he mentioned it.

"Mm. Cherry pie."

He turned to kiss Dean. "I like cherry pie."

Dean chuckled and kissed him back, holding Castiel's head between his hands. His kisses turned fierce and he pushed Castiel against the mirror. Castiel massaged Dean's back muscles and slid his hands up under Dean's shirts. Dean leaned his hips into Castiel's and kissed him harder, and his hand groped between Castiel's legs. He broke off the kiss and frowned at him. "Nothing, huh?"

"It's too public," Castiel whispered. "Just kiss me."

Dean kissed him, and it was obvious to Castiel in a moment that he wanted more than mere kissing. Castiel rubbed Dean's back and then his stomach, unzipped Dean's jeans and slid his hand beneath his underwear. Dean moaned against his mouth and shivered. Castiel liked that—he slid his hand lower, over the trembling skin of his belly and the narrow path of crisp hair, to the hot flesh that jerked at his touch and made Dean tremble even harder.

Castiel turned him so his back was to the mirror and slid down Dean's body to his knees. Dean grasped his shoulders and tilted back his head with a soft, "Yeah, babe." The terms of endearment Dean chose amused Castiel, particularly that one, as if he were something innocent and untouched.

Which, Castiel supposed, Dean thought he was.

He pulled Dean's jeans low on his thighs and licked him into his mouth, relishing every quiet moan that escaped from Dean's lips. He watched Dean's face, the arc of his lashes on his cheekbones and the way he sucked his lower lips into his mouth to muffle his cries, and then closed his own eyes to suck Dean blissfully.

Dean shoved his fist into his mouth to stifle his shout and Castiel drank his come, rubbing his belly until Dean stopped gasping. Dean slid down the mirror and Castiel sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with his fingertips. "I think I feel smug."

"You look pretty smug," Dean said. "And so fucking hot." He ran his thumb over Castiel's mouth. "Love how your mouth looks right now, all red like that."

Castiel felt himself blush and looked down at the floor. The carpet was brown and grey and black splotches, and Castiel wondered why humanity chose to make so many things so visually unappealing when beauty was just as easy. "That was very bad, wasn't it?"

"No, babe, it was amazing." He took hold of Castiel by the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Castiel went willingly and tucked his body into Dean's, his arms going around Dean's slender waist.

"I mean," he said, "it was a bad thing we did. People aren't supposed to have sex in public places. It's a private thing."

"No, they're not supposed to, but they do anyway. I thought you didn't mind having sex in the Impala. Or outdoors. You like that."

"There aren't other people around in the Impala. Or outdoors." He started up. "Or Sam waiting outside."

"Shit," Dean said and rubbed his hand over his face. "I hope he left." He stood and zipped up his jeans again. "Are you ready to go? Three shirts, three t-shirts, I got some underwear and socks for you, and then a couple pairs of jeans . . ."

"Can I wear this out?"

"Better not," Dean said after a moment. "We shouldn't draw attention to ourselves any more than we already have."

"All right," Castiel said and pulled the t-shirt off. Dean laughed, and Castiel didn't ask why, knowing it wasn't something Dean could explain.

***

Castiel found Sam in the office supply section. "Dean is paying for the clothes."

"Okay," Sam said. He put back the journal he was looking at far too intently. "Hey. Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

Sam bit his lip and leaned his arm against a shelf filled with day planners and legal pads. He said in a low voice, "My brother. What do you see in him?"

Castiel tilted his head, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean …" Sam glanced away as a woman ambled past the aisle, looked in and then ambled on, the wheels of her cart squeaking in a slow rhythm. "I mean, is it the sex? You like having sex with him?"

"Yes," Castiel said, still puzzled.

"Is that all it is?"

"I don't understand."

"Dean's …" He looked away and shook his head. "Dean's always liked girls, and then you come along and change everything, and I'm trying to get it but I just don't."

"Oh," Castiel said, still not understanding, quite. He said, "Angels have no biology and therefore no gender. We choose identities but they have little meaning in a celestial sense." He paused a moment as Sam continued frowning. "I can't explain it better than that."

"But it's all you, right? It's not a vessel thing?"

"Jimmy had no male lovers," Castiel said. "I believe it is all me."

"Do you love him?" Sam said, his voice soft as it had been with Dean, and Castiel wished he had the same answer. It would probably be easier for all of them if he had.

He couldn't lie, though. "Yes."

Sam looked at him a moment longer, then nodded. "Okay. Let's go find Dean."

"I know where he is," Castiel said, and was confused again when Sam laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Of course you do, Cas. Of course you do."

***

The town was small and the army surplus store was on the other side of it from the department store. It was a metal building like a half-dome, and Castiel supposed it was like something the military would build in the field. The walls were lined with shelves, carrying everything from aviator sunglasses to duffel bags.

Sam went to do his own shopping while Dean took Castiel to the boot aisle. "What's your shoe size?"

Castiel looked at his feet. "Large?" he said doubtfully.

"Give me your shoe," Dean said, holding out his hand, so Castiel took one off and gave it to him. Dean peered inside and shook his head. "The size is worn off. We'll have to eyeball it." He began to walk the aisle, comparing Castiel's shoe to boots, and tucked a few under his arm.

Castiel watched him, Sam's questions on his mind. What _did_ they get from each other? In Dean he had a lover, but he had existed for millennia without one. Lovers were not vital to him. Dean had his choice of women, like the pretty waitress at the diner or the blushing clerk at the department store, but had instead chosen him, an angel in a male form, someone innocent in ways Dean could never really understand—and possessing knowledge Dean would never comprehend.

If Dean did not love him, there was no explanation.

"What?" Dean said, looking up at him. He was kneeling on the floor, still hunting for the right boots. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Castiel sat on the floor beside Dean and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"Here. Try these." He gave Castiel a pair of work boots. "They shouldn't pinch your toes and your feet shouldn't slide around when you walk."

Castiel nodded and took off his other shoe, and put the boots on. He laced them up and tied them tight, and took a few steps down the aisle. "They don't pinch," he told Dean.

"Are they too loose? If we're going to be walking a lot you need shoes that fit right. I mean, since you're stuck with us and all."

"I don't feel stuck," Castiel said. Dean leaned back against the shelf, his hands hanging loosely from his knees, and Castiel walked back to him and sat cross-legged beside him. "I think they fit." He regarded his feet. The work boots were heavier than Jimmy's shoes and he could hardly flex his feet.

"I mean your mojo. Since you can't—" Dean made flit his hand in the air like a bird in flight. Castiel leaned his head against Dean's shoulder. "I'm not saying I want you to leave," Dean added softly and turned his head towards Castiel's. It was not a kiss but it felt like one, and Castiel closed his eyes, letting the happiness that came from this small gesture fill and warm him.

 _This,_ he thought. This was what he found in Dean.

He cupped Dean's cheek in his palm a moment, then pulled off the boots. "Let's get these."

"You want them?"

"They fit. And they're sturdy." He gave them to Dean.

"I guess that's as close as you get to wanting something, huh?" Dean said in a wry tone and put them in the box where he'd found them. "They do what they're supposed to do and that's enough for you."

Castiel took Jimmy's shoes back and put them on. They felt weightless after the boots. "You don't do what you're supposed to, but I want you nonetheless."

"Castiel, that's almost romantic," said Dean as he got to his feet, and he held out a hand to help Castiel stand. Castiel grasped it and pulled himself up, using Dean's arm as a counterbalance.

"I'll work on it," he said and that made Dean smile a moment.

"You need a coat. A better coat. Come on." He pulled Castiel to another part of the store.

The first coat that caught Castiel's eye was khaki green and zipped up the front, but when he took it off the rack Dean winced. Castiel did not ask why, but he put it back and went to another rack. He found a wool coat that reminded him of Jimmy's trench coat, and when he showed it to Dean there was no wincing.

***

After lunch they were on their way to the next job in Denver. Travelers were disappearing from the highways that wound through the mountains outside the city, their cars abandoned, no bodies found. Sam thought it was a woman in white, taking her revenge.

There were prairies to cross first, under a vast open sky the color of iron, and the mountains were so far away they hid behind the curve of the earth. Castiel leaned his head against the window in the back seat, letting Dean's music drive away his thoughts. Sam read, sometimes sharing information he found about the creature they expected to find once they reached the west, but mostly he was quiet.

As was Dean, and it seemed to Castiel that whenever he looked at him, Dean was watching him in the rear view mirror. Each time Castiel saw him looking, Dean winked at him and smiled. Castiel remembered to smile in return and gazed out the window again.

His new clothes felt strange on his body, as if he wore nothing except on his feet. The t-shirt was snug but not binding as the business shirt and tie had been, and the jeans were loose around his waist. When he had come out of the bathroom in the diner after they ate, Jimmy's suit folded under his arm, Dean had given him a look that was openly lustful, and Castiel knew if Sam weren't with them they would pull off into the first empty field Dean saw to show his appreciation of Castiel's new look.

Castiel wiggled his toes. The boots were heavy. He liked the thick wool socks, though. There was something substantial about them that pleased him.

The highway seemed like a grey ribbon stretching to the sky, shrinking until it disappeared.

 

***

The creature haunting the highways that looped around Denver was not a woman in white but a gwyllion, a spirit that lured travelers off the road like a will o'the wisp. It was her cry that gave her away, and all it took to kill her was a metal knife. The demon-killing knife did the job admirably.

Castiel cleaned the boys up after the fight: Sam got badly scraped rolling down an embankment and Dean had been dragged some distance on the pavement before he managed to stab the gwyllion. The spirit had recognized something in Castiel, and her shrieks had taken on a new terrified tone as Castiel wrestled her to the ground.

"I haven't had that good of a fight since Jacob," he said afterward, more exuberant than he'd been in weeks, and both Sam and Dean looked at him as if they couldn't understand where this joy was coming from.

Sam had the shower first so he could wash off gravel and dust. Castiel gently dabbed the scrapes on Dean's hands with watered-down whiskey. It hurt his heart to see Dean's hands like this, bleeding and sore, but he supposed he had seen them whole only once. Dean's life did not allow for smooth skin and unbroken fingernails.

Besides, they were beautiful to him, no matter how much they bled.

He lifted one hand to his mouth and kissed the palm, and Dean quietly laughed. "What're you doin'," he said in a voice that was low and filled with affection.

"I wish I could heal you with a touch right now," Castiel said. "Just pass my fingers over and leave new skin behind."

Dean was quiet a moment. "Does it scare you? Your power … fading?"

Castiel looked up at him and gave a short nod, then picked up a clean cotton ball and resumed washing Dean's wounds.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered. "I'm sorry, Cas. I never meant for this to happen, not any of it."

Castiel kissed him. "Lie down. You're sore and tired." Dean sighed and shifted so he could lie with his head on Castiel's thigh, and Castiel stroked his hair until Dean relaxed.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean."

"When you're looking for God, what do you do? Where do you?"

Castiel stroked Dean's hair, letting the short fine strands fall from his fingertips. "I go to where I think he might be and I walk among the people, looking for him. He could be anyone."

"But where do you go?" He twisted his head to look up at Castiel.

"Holy places. Soup kitchens. Everything in between."

"And if he's not there?"

"Then I will try other places." He rubbed the back of Dean's head, at the top of his spine, which he knew Dean found particularly soothing. Dean moaned with pleasure and made himself more comfortable, nudging Castiel until he was stretched out as well and Dean could lay his head on Castiel belly.

"I know this is important and everything," he muttered, his words slurring together with exhaustion, "but I'm glad you're here. Miss you when you're gone, babe."

"I will always come back to you," Castiel whispered, smiling down at him. "Do you want a shower before your sleep? It might help with your muscles."

"Yeah … in a minutes …"

Castiel resumed stroking his hair, and was not at all surprised when Dean began to snore.

Sam came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, smelling of soap and looking half-asleep, and his face did a strange regretful twist when he saw them. "Is he asleep?"

"Yes." Castiel went on slowly stroking Dean's hair.

Sam nodded and pulled back the covers on his bed, got under them and spent a few moments getting comfortable, punching pillows, fluffing sheets. He said, when he was finally still, "Is he okay?"

"He is tired. He needs sleep. You both do," he added, glancing at Sam, who made a wry sound.

"Point taken." Sam reached over and turned out the light above his bed.

***

They left Denver and headed north. They stopped about four hours into the journey, at a highway rest stop where people could buy candy and soda from a machine or use the restrooms. There were stone picnic tables and a plastic playground as well, and the bark under the playground was scattered with patches of frozen snow.

When Castiel came out of the restroom—eating necessitated things such as this—Dean was standing at the guard rail beyond the playground, watching the gorge that ran alongside the highway. "Hey, Cas," Dean called to him. "Come look at this."

Castiel joined him and looked at where he was pointing, and gasped. An eagle soared above them and floated on the wind currents. "That's beautiful," Castiel whispered. Dean smiled and put a hand on his back, and they watched the eagle fly until it was out of sight.

When they turned back to return to the car, Sam was leaning against it, waiting for them. He smiled and got into the back seat.

"It's all right," Castiel said when they reached the car. "I don't mind sitting in the back."

"We can take turns," Sam said. "Sometime Dean may even let you drive."

"Don't count on it," Dean said, and drove the next few hours with his hand on Castiel's knee.

***

The door to their motel room was rattling as if a furious ghost was trying to break in. The boys were sound asleep, safe with their protective tattoos and wards, but still Castiel rose from the bed and went to the door. He passed his hand over it, frowning when he felt nothing but it continued rattling. He looked out the window and understood—it was storming so hard the rain was like a filmy sheet, each drop sending up another cascade of water, and the wind blew as if in a rage.

He felt his mouth drop open at the sheer power of it, and jumped when thunder crashed and lightning flared in once. He blinked, blinded by the brilliance of the lightning, and went back to the bed to wake Dean.

"Dean," he whispered and poked his shoulder. "Dean, wake up."

Dean inhaled and blinked at him, frowning. "Is something wrong?"

"It's raining. Come watch it with me."

"I know what rain looks like," Dean muttered and turned onto his side.

"This is different. It's beautiful. I want you to see it."

"Fine, fine." Dean threw back the sheets and went to the window. He opened the blinds enough to peer out. "Okay, it's raining." After a moment he added, "Whoa. That's one hell of a storm."

Castiel pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped the blanket around himself and Dean. Dean slipped his arms around him, quiet in the face of the storm, and Castiel held him closer and pressed his lips to Dean's shoulder.

Dean turned so they were hip to hip and looked at Castiel, his eyes wide in the dark. He kissed Castiel slowly, as his hands moved to the small of Castiel's back. "Glad we're not out in that."

"So am I," Castiel whispered, focusing on Dean's lips. "I need you, Dean."

"We'll have to sneak off so we can get some alone-time." His skin goosepimpled under Castiel's palms, and Castiel kissed his shoulder and breathed against his neck. He was not surprised when Dean pressed himself closer. "Maybe now's a good time. Out in the car."

Castiel nodded and picked up his coat, slipped his bare feet into his boots and waited for Dean to follow suit. A key to their room in his jeans pocket, Dean grabbed the keys to the Impala and they both ran out through the rain.

Dean laughed as he dove into the back seat and held out his arms to Castiel. Castiel threw himself on top of Dean and shook the rain from his hair before he bent to kiss him. "I love you," Castiel whispered as he grasped the back of Dean's head, and Dean grunted as he shoved his tongue into Castiel's mouth.

They yanked off their clothes between kisses, coat and boots thrown into the front seat, and Dean lifted his hips to get out lube and condoms from his jeans pocket. Castiel leaned back on Dean's thighs and watched him as Dean pushed his jeans down to his thighs. "Nude up," he said gruffly.

Castiel kept their gazes locked as he worked off his boxer shorts, and then wrapped his hand around Dean and stroked him. "Baby," Dean groaned, eyes closing, and he rocked into Castiel's hand. He groped for Castiel and gripped him, making Castiel gasp, and the smile Dean gave him was dirty and happy.

Dean pushed himself up and cradled Castiel against his hips. Castiel reached between them to prepare them, rolling on the condom carefully, pushing a little lubricant into himself, and Dean licked his lower lip and breathed harder as he watched. "This is practically a quickie."

"I don't care," Castiel whispered, kissing Dean as he knelt up. "I just want you in me."

"Yeah," Dean groaned and caught Castiel's lip in his teeth as he slowly pushed inside.

Castiel rocked his hips, gasping through the burn. He held Dean by the back of his neck and muttered, "Don't stop, don't stop," as Dean opened him, until Dean chuckled darkly and growled, "Not gonna," and kissed him. His mouth slid down Castiel's neck and Castiel dug his fingers into Dean's scalp and tilted back his head.

"Dean," he whispered, "oh, Dean."

Dean kissed his chest and shoulders, licked his neck and surged up again to take his mouth. They both whimpered, muffled by kisses, as their bodies moved and the windows fogged.

Dean pulled back to watch Castiel's face. He rubbed his thumb over Castiel's lips and Castiel sucked it into his mouth. Dean chuckled and brushed his hand down Castiel's neck, to the leather cord that hung around his throat. He traced the cord down the amulet that lay against Castiel's chest.

"Do you want it back?" Castiel whispered, his hands on Dean's shoulders.

Dean shook his head. "You still need it." He tilted back his head and closed his eyes. Castiel pushed him down gently so that he lay flat, still holding his shoulders, and straightened his body so he could move more easily. Dean wrapped one hand around Castiel and cupped the back of Castiel's neck with the other, his hips rolling, his legs tense.

Castiel turned his head to kiss Dean's wrist, and then bent to watch Dean's face. "You are beautiful," Castiel whispered and bent to brush his mouth over Dean's. "You are so beautiful."

Dean licked at Castiel's mouth and Castiel touched their tongues together. He grasped Dean's head and deepened the kiss, and then planted his hand flat on the seat and watched Dean's eyes, the flush in his cheeks, as he ground his body onto Dean's. Dean's eyes were enormous and his breath hitched in his chest, before he threw back his head and cried out, the cords tight in his neck and his lips wet.

Castiel leaned their foreheads together. He moaned as his body shuddered and he fell onto Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around him and kissed his hair.

He gasped, "It does get better every time. I never thought it was true." Castiel kissed Dean's chest and settled his head comfortably where he could hear Dean's heart beating.

The rain pounded on the car's roof. Castiel closed his eyes.

***

Dean was spooning him. It was morning, the heater in the motel room was rattling like someone was shaking a can full of pebbles, and Dean was spooning him. His hand was on Castiel's chest, covering the amulet under his t-shirt.

Castiel reached back to touch Dean's hair. Dean snuffed against his neck. Castiel kept his eyes closed, so warm and comfortable and happy he didn't want to leave this moment. He wanted to capture it and freeze it somehow, so that he could hold it in his hand.

But the day would begin as it always did. There would be driving and music, greasy diner food, Dean's odd jokes, Sam's books. Their life had a rhythm. It was easy, in its way. There were monsters to fight, of course, spirits to send on their journey, but afterward there was this, Dean's big hand on Castiel's chest and his breath rustling the hair at the back of Castiel's neck.

Castiel lay still for a few minutes longer, then slipped out of the bed and put on jeans and boots, picked up one of the room keys and put on his wool coat. There was free coffee in the motel office, so he filled three cups and brought them back to their room.

"Well, look at that," Dean said when the smell of fresh coffee woke him and Sam blinked awake and grinned his thanks as he took his cup. "Practically like room service."

Castiel kicked off his boots and leaned back against the headboard. He held his cup more for its heat than because he wanted the coffee, but the smell was nice. Dean sipped his and traced shapes on Castiel's side.

"Thanks," Dean said softly. "It's a nice way to wake up."

"I thought you'd like it." Castiel nudged his toes against Dean's.

"Hey, I was thinking," Sam said, and they both looked at him. "If you two ever, um, want some time alone? Just tell me to go see a movie or something. I'll get out of your hair for a couple hours. You might even want to go out yourselves sometime."

"I don't think we'll need that," Dean said. "We do okay." He nudged Castiel's toes right back and grinned.

"Dean," Sam said, "couples need to date."

"Why? We already know each other."

"God, you really need to have some normal relationships," Sam said. "Even married couples go on dates. It keeps the relationship healthy."

Castiel played with Dean's fingers. "I …" he began, and then drank some coffee. It was bitter on his tongue and burned in his throat.

Dean said, "You want this, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean," Castiel said quietly.

Dean sighed heavily as if it were a great sacrifice. "Thanks, Sam, we'd love to go on a date sometime." He leaned close and whispered into Castiel's ear, "And then I'm taking you back to our motel room and fucking your brains out, got that?"

"Yes, Dean," Castiel said, with a small shiver of anticipation.

***

They were on the road again when Dean said, "We should wait until we get to a big city."

"Why is that?"

Dean sighed. "I don't want to be hassled," he said bluntly. "There's a lot less chance of being hassled in a bit city than a small town. I mean, it may still happen in a big city, but one with a—a sizable, um—oh, hell. A gay scene. It'll be less likely. I hope." He turned up the radio.

Castiel turned it down again. "You don't want to be labeled."

"I'm not gay." He glanced at Castiel . "I'm just—" There was something naked in his eyes and almost frightened, and Castiel took his hand as he looked back at the road.

"I think the term you want is 'bisexual,'" said Sam and turned a page.

"Sure, whatever," Dean muttered. He took back his hand and hunched over the wheel. "I am getting far too worked up about this."

"Yes, you are," Castiel said and reached over to rub the back of Dean's neck. Dean made his frustrated noise but finally leaned back into Castiel's hand.

***

It was already late when they reached Seattle. They found a motel and Sam went inside to check them in. Dean reached over to hold Castiel's hand, and Castiel rubbed the back with his thumb.

"We are in Seattle," Castiel remarked.

"So we are."

"It's a big city."

"Yes, it is."

"With an active and vocal gay population."

"Wow, you're bad at being subtle."

"I will work on it."

"Cas," Dean said. "You really want to do this date thing? It won't be fancy by any means. Dinner and a movie, at most. I'm not original when it comes to this kind of shit."

"I like the sound of dinner and movie."

Dean looked at him. He inhaled as if he were going to speak, but closed his mouth and blinked hard, his eyes shining a bit in the fluorescent lights of the parking lot. He growled, "I really fucking love you, you know that, right?"

Castiel looked at him, puzzled but pleased. "I know it now."

"Okay. Good. 'Cause I'm not good at this kind of shit either." He looked at Castiel and then looked away. "I just … you deserve some happiness."

"I love you too, Dean," Castiel said and squeezed his hand.

Sam opened the rear passenger seat and got in. He leaned over the front seat to give them a key. "I got us adjoining rooms," he said. "You guys get some privacy for the next couple nights."

"Thank you," Castiel said as he took the key.

"We're 'round back." Dean didn't move, and Sam prodded, "Dean."

"Yeah. 'Round back." He started up the car and drove to their room.

Dean threw himself onto the bed the moment he was inside, and folded his hands behind his head. Castiel took off his coat and hung it over a chair, and lay beside him.

Sam opened the adjoining door, grinned at them, and said, "Good night, guys," and shut it again.

"Good night, Sam," Dean said and then looked at Castiel. Castiel put his hand on Dean's forehead so he could comb his fingers through Dean's hair. "Cas," Dean murmured. "Can't we just fuck?"

"Tonight we can," Castiel said. "Tomorrow night you're taking me to dinner and a movie. You promised."

"I know. It's not that I don't want to …" He rolled onto his side and leaned his head on his hand. Castiel folded his hands on his chest. "It's just, who are kidding? A vessel and an angel, two guys trying to be … I don't even know, man. Something we're not."

"So we're not normal," Castiel said. "And so we're not going to have a normal life. But sometimes, can't we just pretend?"

Dean inhaled and kissed him, thrusting his hand into Castiel's hair. "Really fuckin' love you," he muttered to Castiel's lips, and Castiel moaned softly in response and rolled onto his back, pulling Dean on top of him.

Uriel used to say that human love was just an excuse to copulate. The biological imperative of reproduction made humans do all sorts of humiliating and debasing things, just for the promise of a few minutes of physical pleasure. Human love was, at best, a pale imitation of divine love, at worst—and Uriel's expression, when they talked about such things, said most cases were the worst—a pretty lie.

Castiel suspected Uriel had never loved anyone.

He had wondered at the connection of the emotion to the act himself until Dean, but now he believed he understood. Love left alone would diminish, but fed with tenderness and passion it could only thrive. To touch a body that contained a mind, a soul, that one adored, to show appreciation and call one's beloved beautiful, to give pleasure and receive pleasure in return—Castiel thought it was as close as most mortals could come to touching the divine.

He did not share this theory with Dean, though. It would only make Dean blush and laugh and make a joke, and Castiel didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

Besides, it was better to drowse at Dean's side and inhale the scent of them, to feel his muscles and skin buzz with the slowly-fading pleasure and welcome soreness. He felt well-used, well-loved, well- _fucked_ , and he liked the feeling enormously.

Dean raked his fingers through Castiel's hair for a few minutes, then said, "I gotta confess something, Cas." Castiel raised his head to look at him."I, um, I swore to myself if you ever asked me for anything I'd give it to you." Castiel started to touch the amulet, and Dean said, "Not like that. I mean, something for yourself. You never ask for anything for yourself. I don't know what you like. You eat what I tell you is good, you wear what you think I want to see you in, you hate my music but you'd never ask me to put in another tape—I just want to give you something you really want."

"I like you," Castiel said, frowning. "I want you."

Dean looked away, biting back a smile. "Aside from me. You've got me. What else do you like? What do you want?"

"Pie," Castiel said. "Thick socks. When the wind is cold but the sun is out. When it rains hard and we're safe inside." He paused, frowning. "I'm sure there are others. I don't know, Dean." He stretched out and lay his head on his favorite place on Dean's chest, just over his heart. "I'm not used to wanting things. Desire is so human."

"But you do want this date."

"Yes."

Dean sighed, his hand combing lazily through Castiel's hair. "Okay. But I'm not a flowers and poetry kind of guy so if you want romantic you're just going to be disappointed."

"I don't care about flowers or poetry."

"I only know one poem and it's not romantic at all."

"What's the poem?" He brushed his thumb over Dean's ribcage.

There was a pause. "'Jabberwocky.' It's a kid's poem but it's funny, and it's about killing a monster so I relate. And it's fun to say."

"'Jabberwocky,'" Castiel murmured. He liked the word.

"And no flowers."

"No flowers," Castiel murmured and kissed Dean's chest.

Dean settled under him comfortably. "Maybe flowers occasionally."

"I don't need flowers, Dean," Castiel said and closed his eyes.

***

Castiel stared at the ceiling. He felt different—different than he had felt for the last week or so, anyway.

He felt like himself again.

If he willed himself anywhere, he knew he would get there. He would probably even get back.

He sat up slowly and looked at Dean, who slept on his side, one arm hanging off the bed, his other hand curled as if he were still holding Castiel's. Castiel slipped his hand back into Dean's and wondered if he should wake him, or just go. He had research to do, leads to follow, his Father to find.

And a date tonight.

He sighed. It would have to wait.

Castiel went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He rubbed his nose along his arm, breathing in the scent of Dean one more time before he had to wash it all away. Dean liked to tell him he smelled like good things—it was different every time, sometimes it was pie and sometimes it was leather and once it was licorice all-sorts, whatever those were—but he had no idea how to catalog the scent of Dean. To him, Dean smelled like peace and happiness and love.

When he had showered he put on Jimmy's suit—dry-cleaned somewhere in Montana—and then went to the door between their rooms and knocked on it softly. Sam opened it, blinking sleepily. "Cas? Is something wrong?"

Castiel hugged him. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Uh, sure," Sam said and then hugged him back. "Sure, Cas. Anytime."

"I have to go," Castiel said.

"Are you … better?"

"I think so. Sam," Castiel said, "promise me you will look after him."

Sam nodded slowly and smiled a little. "I will. Of course I will. Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

"No, I will say goodbye. But I wanted to say goodbye to you, too."

"Thanks. I'll, um, leave you two alone." He shut the door with a quiet snick.

Castiel sat on the edge of the bed and touched Dean's cheek. Dean snorted and blinked, then squinted at him. "Cas? Is it morning?"

"Yes. I am leaving."

"Oh," Dean said, and shook his head vigorously. "Got your mojo back, I guess."

"Yes." Castiel folded his hands together. "I will return as soon as I can."

"You'd better," Dean said and looked away. "In one piece, too."

"Yes, Dean," Castiel said, gazing at him fondly.

Dean roughly wiped his eyes. "God, you're turning me into a chick. Stop looking at me like that."

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like—like—just stop it."

"I can't help it," Castiel said. "I love you and I will miss you."

"Love you too," Dean muttered and dropped his head, and when he squinted back at Castiel he looked far too tired and worn for the burden he had to bear. Castiel took Dean's chin in his hand and kissed him, and let Dean pull him along as he lay back. "Don't go."

"Dean," Castiel said gently and stroked his cheek with his thumb. "Nothing short of death will keep me away from you."

Dean studied his face. "Okay." Castiel kissed him again and got off the bed, and Dean added hastily, "Guess we're taking a rain check on that date, huh?"

"Yes. It's all right. I believe we will find the time." The strange part was, he truly did.

"Okay. Cas," he said and Castiel paused again. Dean inhaled. "Look. Um. I do want to give you what you want, you know. You let me know as soon as you figure it out, okay?"

Castiel smiled at him. "I have everything I want," he said and left.

End.


End file.
